


Going Home for Christmas

by Charlie9646



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child - Thorne & Rowling
Genre: Angst, Angst and Fluff, Canon Compliant, Christmas, Draco is a good father, F/M, Harry is trying, M/M, Mentions Bigotry, PTSD, Post-Canon, Snarky Severus Snape, Sweet, Vague Mentions of Child Abuse, fathers, fathers and sons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-08
Updated: 2020-12-08
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:28:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27582727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Charlie9646/pseuds/Charlie9646
Summary: Albus Severus Potter is the middle child, the forgotten one. He doesn’t cause as much mischief as James, he isn’t the baby like Lily. He’s the Slytherin, the gay son, and unknown to Harry he lives up to his name.After Uncle Ron’s blunder Harry decides to fetch his son from a place he never wanted to see again let alone visit. But Draco Malfoy wants to have a conversation first before he allows Harry to do just that.
Relationships: Albus Severus Potter/Scorpius Malfoy, Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley
Comments: 16
Kudos: 143
Collections: The Marauders Advent 2020





	Going Home for Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you KatieDeCelis for Betaing this.
> 
> My character was Albus Severus and my prompt was snowballs. Thank you Zorak for the art and Artemisia for Alphaing this.

Harry walked up the path to Malfoy Manor, the snow crunching under his boots. The harsh wind stung his face, but he still walked on. Ginny was upset because Al had refused to come home for Christmas. First, they tried sending owls to him -- long before the holidays, while Al was still at Hogwarts. 

Harry had even firecalled Minerva, trying to convince her to help the parents make their case to the boy. But that didn’t happen. For once, the old Headmistress was unwilling to give one of her favourite former students what he desired. Molly suggested trying a howler, but neither Harry nor Ginny was willing to go that far.

Ron however… 

Harry loved his old friend like a brother, but sometimes Ronald Weasley acted without thinking. This happened to be one of those times. Lily had sent her father a letter about what had happened. He didn’t speak to his brother-in-law for weeks and still couldn’t bear to think what the man had said to his own nephew. 

Harry stared up at the Manor, squinting his eyes at the brightness of the day. He sighed softly and continued on. Maybe he shouldn’t be here. Let Albus Severus have his time away from his loved ones, Christmas or not. He was a Slytherin in a family of Gryffindors. But, Harry didn’t turn back. The wards upon the manor were still present and the floo was not open to him. He had tried that already, hence the long walk Harry was taking with only his own thoughts for company.

When he first apparated outside the Malfoy wards, he was angry -- fuming more like -- but the wind and walk had calmed him. Harry loved Albus. He adored all of his children, but the boy, who was almost a man, had always kept his parents at a distance. A sharp contrast between him and his two siblings. Maybe it was because Al was Slytherin, but the sharp feeling in the pit of his stomach said that was not the case. 

His son had never outright told his father that he was gay; but Harry was not stupid, nor was he ignorant. He could see the writing on the wall, as did everyone else in the family. 

As Harry drew closer to the Manor, the sound of barking exploded around him, causing him to jump. He drew out his wand with shaking hands. “Come out, whatever the hell you are!” Harry spat, holding out his wand.

His mind supplied him hundreds of options of what strange creature the Malfoys might have. Draco liked to collect strange things, but the man didn’t tend to keep things that were  _ alive. _ Instead of a monstrous creature, it was a dog -- a rather  _ large  _ dog -- but a dog all the same. It was woolly, with tan and white coloured fur. 

“Atlas, come,” Draco muttered, stepping out from the trees. The dog bolted to his side, sitting down at the man’s feet. “It’s just Potter and he’s about as dangerous as a wet blanket.” Crossing his arms over his chest, he asked, “What in Merlin’s name are you doing here?” 

“To visit my son.”

“Well, he doesn’t want to see you,” the other man reached down and grabbed the dog’s collar. He turned sharply with the dog at his side. Calmly walking next to his master, the beast's lumbering gait matched Draco's sharp, quick steps.

“Albus Severus,” Harry said, through gritted teeth. “Is still sixteen and I am Head Auror. While you are still a former Death Eater.”

“You come to my home to threaten me, Potter? Same as you  _ always _ were. Maybe that would be why your son doesn’t want to come home for Christmas.” 

Draco stood there, his back rigid and a scowl on his face. Long white hair framed his shoulders like a curtain. 

Over the years, the two had made efforts to reach a sort of polite acquaintanceship. In this moment, all that progress was lost.

Harry did not understand why the man could not see things from his perspective -- he was a father after all! But, it mattered little. He did not make idle threats. 

Harry took three sharp steps forward, “This is not a bloody threat, Malfoy. Take me to my son.” 

“Then, Potter, follow me. However, I will NOT force him to leave and if you lay a hand on him... Head Auror be damned,” Draco snarled. And then he muttered, “I should have just let Atlas eat you. Even if he’s more likely to just lick you to death.”

Harry followed the blond man at a brisker pace than when he had approached alone. Within a few moments, they reached the manor. It was decorated with bright, glittering fairy lights and ribbons of green and red. The seasonal decorations were in sharp contrast to Harry's memories from the war, when it had been haunted by the likes of Bellatrix Lestrange. Her crazed laughter still haunted his nightmares, as did Hermione’s screams. The memory of Dobby’s body creeping into his mind.

_ No... _ He wouldn’t give into the memories he had worked so hard to process.

For the life of him, Harry could not understand why Al felt comfortable _ here _ . It didn't matter that the Manor was decked out with Christmas cheer - this place still sent shivers up his spine.

Draco let go of his dog. The creature ran up the marble steps of the manor, barking when it reached the landing. While his brown eyes watched Harry sharply. 

“Where is my son?” Harry asked. “I want to speak to him.”

Draco simply pointed sharply at the sky with his left hand. It was then that Harry saw them: Al high above, on a broom, laughing loudly with Scorpius chasing after him. 

_ Merlin, _ he thought,  _ how did Albus get so good on a broom? _

“He got good because he didn’t have you shouting out at him,” Draco muttered.

“Stay out of my head Malfoy!” Harry shouted. 

“I wouldn’t go in your head if someone paid me. I simply read your stupid face.” 

“Get him down. I want to talk to him,” he said to the other man. 

“No,” Draco said sharply. “You and I are going to have a talk first. Let them have their fun. We need to talk -- father to father.”

Harry followed him inside the manor, shivering once he was inside the building -- even if it was much warmer. There were more holiday decorations, ribbons, greenery and a Christmas tree. You could put lipstick on a pig and it was still a pig. Just as you could decorate a manor with Christmas cheer, but it didn’t remove the ghosts of the past that haunted these halls. 

Draco led him to the sitting room. There was another tree in here. This one with presents underneath it. The packages were stacked high, wrapped in brightly coloured paper, tied with large bows and curling ribbons. Harry sat down in one of the wingback chairs by the fire. It was comfortable and he sunk into it softly. 

There were a few portraits in the room, most were not in their frames, and the others were sleeping. 

Draco took the other chair. He pulled a pipe out of the box that sat on the fireplace mantle, lighting it before he spoke, “You can’t make your son into some person you have dreamed up in your head. He is who he is! And acting as if you have a choice in the matter means that the only thing you will do is push him away. Al is growing into a  _ good _ man. I know you don’t like that our boys have grown close over the years…”

“That’s saying it kindly,” Harry growled. “You simply wouldn’t hear any of it.”

“Must I remind you what happened when they were kept apart?” Draco snarked. “I will NOT repeat that -- not for you, not for anyone. I wouldn't be able to look at myself in the mirror if I did.”

“We could try again…”

“I. Will. NOT. have it! You insisted that we do it your way! And I was bloody terrified that I was going to lose Scorp. He was more depressed being separated from Al than he was when his mother died.”

“It scares me,” Harry said, crossing his legs as he did so. “How close they are…”

“Of course they are!” Draco snapped. “They are the only out gay boys close in age at Hogwarts. They are both Slytherins. But, more importantly, they are their fathers' sons. They carry the weight of  _ our _ histories on their backs. They are the only two people who truly understand each other.”

“I just wish... He would let me in.”

“You're the one at fault there. You keep him at a distance. Albus has grown up feeling like an outsider in his own family. That’s  _ all _ on you.” 

“As if you didn’t struggle with this yourself,” Harry spat, shifting in his seat. “As if you didn’t…”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence, Potter,” Draco snarled, his grey eyes narrowing. “I did not wish for a different sort of son. I did not ask him to be anyone else than who he is. I love Scorpius and if you suggest anything else, I will bloody knock your teeth out.”

Harry held up his hands, “Woah, Malfoy. I was…I don’t know. I just...I…”

“You are a bloody fool that’s what you are,” a voice spoke from over Harry’s shoulder, one from decades ago, the portrait version of Severus Snape. “What would your mother say if she could see you now? Did your years with Petunia not teach you to accept people as they are?”   
  
“Petunia didn’t teach me much of anything,” he sighed. “But, you know that, don’t you? You were always accusing me of being a horrible, spoiled, brat. You knew how Petunia was...You knew what she was like and still you harassed me as if you believed I was living in the lap of luxury.”

“And yet here you are doing the same thing to your son!” Severus shouted. The portrait sounded shrill and quite unbalanced. 

Harry stood turning to face him…”You were never a parent, never a husband, not even really anyone's friend. You are in no position to judge me. I shouldn’t have named my son after you. I thought that you had seen the light when you were dying. But you know what? I was wrong. I was a fool to think you were anything more than what you always were -- a bastard, a git, and so much more.”

The anger was rolling off of him in waves. Maybe he shouldn't have said those things, but he couldn't stop. 

To be judged by  _ them! _ Two people who he had  _ defended! _ Neither of them had any right to say such things! 

“Severus, I think you should leave. I think you have said enough,” Draco said.

“No, I don’t think I will,” growled the portrait. “I think I am right where I need to be.”

“You are not helping matters, Professor…”

“I am not anyone’s Professor anymore, Draco.”

“Well, then, stop trying to educate Potter like you are. Can you please leave this conversation father to father?” The blond asked. It was odd to watch them to have this sort of conversation. There was a closeness between Snape and Draco. One that caused a tiny bit of jealousy to rise up in Harry. 

_ What were they to each other?  _ He thought.  _ Because the way they interacted and the fact that Snape’s portrait hung in the sitting room screamed to him there was something more than this man simply being a friend of Draco’s father.  _

“Fine, then. But I wish to hear about it later,” Severus sighed, before disappearing from the frame. 

Only the stool where the man's image had sat remained visible in the frame. Merlin only knew where he had gone. Not that Harry cared...Well, at least not  _ much _ . 

Snape was  _ interesting _ to him, especially right after the war. At one point, he had been Harry's mother’s closest friend. He was someone who loved had her. And yet, somehow, this same man had been as mean as possible to Harry himself. It was strange, unnerving, and as odd as anything Harry had ever encountered. 

“Can we please start this over?” Draco said, pinching his nose. “Can you please try to understand them? We both love our sons. I will not deny that…not in a million years. But you have to understand...He’s gay. There is nothing you can ever do to change that.”

Sharply pointing at Snape's frame, he continued, “You kind of set Al up for being who he is. Though I'm guessing that you don’t know that, do you?”

“What do you mean?” Harry asked, his fingers trembling where they rested atop his knees. He stared at his hands. “What did I do to cause this?”

“You didn't cause this, you imbecile. But I think it’s poetic justice in a way,” Draco said, smiling, as if he found something funny. “Severus Snape and Albus Dumbledore were both gay. Potter, you named your son after two gay men and are now throwing a bloody temper tantrum that he’s gay.”

“Snape?!?!” He cried, his hand flying to his mouth. "No, he wasn’t. He was in love with my…mother.”

Draco began to laugh. Throwing his head back, his long blond hair flying around him in disarray. “You aren't  _ that _ stupid, are you, Potter?”

Feeling his face heat up he shot back, “I am not stupid! He...His memories...He. Loved. My. Mother!”

“Stop throwing a temper tantrum, would you?” the Malfoy heir spat, sighing and setting aside his pipe. He rubbed his temples and then continued to speak, “You care for Granger, don’t you?”   
  


Harry nodded, unsure what Malfoy was getting at. His hands rumbled through his hair, surely making it messier than it already was. “I do. She and I are closer than most siblings. What are you getting at?”  
  


“That’s how your mother and Severus were. That’s how Pansy and I are. Severus and Regulus Black, however...they were more like Al and Scorpius.”

Harry didn’t know what to make of this. But the truth was that Draco had no reason to lie to him; even he could admit that. He stared out the window and saw Al and Scorpius standing under the trees kissing. The two of them looked happy and in love. No...He was  _ not _ going to be the father who hated his son! 

He thought back to one of Snape’s memories. Previously, he thought Snape's muggle father depised his son because he had magic. Now he realized the truth of the man's words…. 

_ A young Severus hiding under a blanket, beneath a table. His greasy hair hanging in his face, black eyes downcast. The little boy couldn’t be a day over six years old, his long skinny limbs shaking violently.  _

Harry knew what  _ that _ felt like. The waiting was the worst. The waiting for them to find you, waiting for the punishment. And wondering exactly what they were going to do to you. 

_ Severus’ father was ranting to the boy’s mother about Severus being a faggot, a sissy, and other offensive slurs. The boy was yanked out from under the table… _

Harry couldn’t and didn’t want to remember the rest. 

_ Was he behaving like Tobias Snape had?  _ He thought,  _ No, he wasn’t...He wasn’t beating his son. He wasn’t threatening him. But he WAS telling Al that who he wasn’t supposed to be who he was. _

Harry’s hand went to his mouth in horror, a cry escaping his mouth. It was a rather odd and pain-filled sound. It was strange to hear it coming from him. He blinked and tears landed on his cheeks.

Everything seemed to come crashing down upon him. How had he become this….this  _ monster?  _ What kind of father treated his child this way!?

Draco walked over to him and said, “Potter.”

Harry opened his mouth and shut it, unable to speak, and covered his face with his hands.

“Harry, look at them. Really look at them...” Draco said, now standing next to him. “Look at our sons. They're  _ happy _ ! War and Death Eaters are history lessons for them. They don't have to worry about death and dying. They don't live in fear for their lives or worry about taking another’s. They love each other and isn’t that a beautiful thing?

Surely we can set aside our past mistakes for their happiness. Neither of us want to end up like my father, Uncle Severus, or Albus Dumbledore with only bad memories and a lifetime of regrets. You are a father, just like I am. Al isn’t turning into the man that you planned him to be. But we don’t get to choose who our children become, now do we?”

“We don’t,” Harry said, shaking his head. 

“Long ago, I asked you to take my hand in friendship. Now I'm asking you again: to take mine and come outside to see our sons. Can you do that?”

“Yes,” he croaked, taking Draco’s hand to lift himself out of the wingback chair. Together, they walked out of the sitting room, through the entryway and into the brilliant light of the outdoors. 

Their sons were now throwing snowballs at each other. Harry saw it coming, but did nothing to warn Draco. A snowball slammed straight into the blond’s face. Not unlike all those years ago when Harry had done the same.

Albus Severus hid behind a tree laughing.

“Potters, all the same,” Draco growled, brushing the snow off his face and letting go of Harry’s hand. “Thinking the proper way to greet someone is to throw snowballs in their face.”

Harry didn’t know what to say. But Atlas butted against him, panting heavily with excitement. 

The two men-in-the-making shouted challenges to their fathers. And as Draco began strategizing their offense, Harry's hatred toward Malfoys and unwillingness to understand his son melted like snow brought indoors. Harry James Potter would first and foremost always love his son, and that’s all that mattered in the end. 

  
  


  
  


  
  
  
  
  
  
  


  
  
  



End file.
